


Take this pulse with you

by honeypuffed



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypuffed/pseuds/honeypuffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky develops a fixation with Steve's heartbeat, over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take this pulse with you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Биение сердца](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6936655) by [bazzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazzz/pseuds/bazzz)



> Written for [this](http://stevebucky-fest.dreamwidth.org/307.html?thread=793651#cmt793651) prompt.

(1932)

“Steve?” Bucky says quietly, not wanting to wake him if he isn’t already. Bucky isn’t sure what time it is, or how many hours they’ve been asleep. It’s late and cold and Bucky can just see the frost forming on the inside of the window lit by the dim glow of streetlamps. He hovers at Steve’s bed, barefoot and shivering.

“Steve?” he says again, and there’s no response. Bucky grows tense. He crouches by the bed and gently puts a hand to Steve’s forehead and he’s cold as ice. Bucky leans in and rests his head on Steve’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. It’s there, but it’s weak and erratic, and every time it skips, so does Bucky’s.

Without another thought he gets up and climbs into bed and curls himself around Steve, pulling the thin sheet over them. Steve’s feet are freezing against his legs and a shiver runs up his spine. He tightens his arms around Steve’s middle.

Steve shifts and Bucky holds fast. “Bucky?” Steve mumbles.

“Just me, Steve, go back to sleep,” Bucky says and presses his cold lips to Steve’s neck.

Steve hums peacefully and shuffles about until he’s comfortable. Bucky waits for his breathing to even out again before closing his own eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep.

 

(1936)

“Are you okay?”

Steve looks up at Bucky from where he’s slumped on the ground in the middle of the empty parking lot. “Of course I'm okay, I had him—”

“On the ropes,” Bucky cuts in, “I know, but—”

Steve’s sudden coughing silences them both.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, tone much more serious now.

Steve tries to respond but all he can do is cough and wheeze and Bucky drops to the ground in front of him. He puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey, come on buddy, easy now.”

Steve doubles over, coughing and coughing and coughing, his fingers digging into his thighs. Bucky rubs his back slowly, up and down. He knows all he can do is try to calm him down; he knows better than to think he can really help when Steve is having an attack. He holds there until the coughing eases.

Steve takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly. “I’m fine, you know,” he says, like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything.

Bucky places his hand to Steve’s chest and feels for his heart rate. It’s awfully elevated and he knows Steve knows it, so he doesn’t even bother saying. It would only bother him more to remind him of his health.

Steve looks down at Bucky’s hand on his chest and then back up to Bucky’s face, slowly. There’s a look on Steve’s face that Bucky doesn’t altogether recognise. Bucky pulls his hand away.

“Come on,” Bucky says, breaking eye contact and standing up. “Let’s go home.” He holds out his hand for Steve, who ignores it and struggles up on his own, wincing.

“I've got this.”

Bucky sighs. “I know you do, pal.”

 

(1943)

Steve is much less committed to cleaning himself up for the exhibition than Bucky would like him to be. “Are you gonna hurry up and wipe the blood off your face, or are you going to let me do it? I got you a date, remember?”

Steve ignores him, preoccupied with staring at Bucky's uniform. “I should be going with you.”

Bucky wets a towel in the basin and brings it up to Steve’s face. “You already said that.” He presses the towel to the corner of Steve’s lips and wipes at the blood that’s dried there. Steve winces and Bucky recoils. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Steve says defiantly, and snatches the towel from Bucky, wiping hastily at his face.

In every moment of contact with the towel, Bucky can see the pain in the twitching of Steve’s brow, can hear it in the ever-so-faint hissing of breath.

“Let me do it?” Bucky asks, quiet now. “Please?”

“I’m 24, not 12, Buck.”

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in and out. “I know.” He feels the towel press against his hand and his eyes flick open. He begins to smile as he takes the towel from Steve, even as Steve frowns and squeezes his eyes shut and says, “Be careful,” like he hasn’t realised he’s spoken at all.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else after that, doesn’t say, _How in the hell are you going to get by without me?_ , doesn’t say, _How are you going to_ survive _without me?_ , just drops the towel in the basin when he’s done and places his hands on either side of Steve’s neck, thumbs on his pulse (heightened, but even), and lets his forehead fall against Steve’s.

 

(1944) 

It’s hard sleeping after Steve rescues him. Bucky finds himself turning fitfully through frightful dreams, waking up in a cold sweat thinking he’s still captured, still being tortured. He lies in his cot, awake now, and closes his mouth when he realises it’s open. Had he screamed out loud?

He looks across to the other side of the tent and Steve is sitting up on the edge of his own cot, staring intently at Bucky.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky instantly recognises the reversal and it’s jarring, to say the least. He’d never imagined Steve would ever have the need to worry about _him_ making it through the night.

“I'm fine,” he says, and turns over, no longer able to look at the worry on Steve’s face. It doesn’t help much—he can still feel the worry in Steve’s gaze burning into the back of his neck.

He hears Steve’s cot creak and then Steve is shoving at Bucky to move over.

“You’re not going to fit,” Bucky says. _Anymore_.

Steve grunts. “Sure I will,” and he slides down next to Bucky and all but pulls Bucky on top of him so they fit.

“I’m not 12,” Bucky teases, but he doesn’t mean it at all.

Steve ignores him and pulls Bucky’s head to his chest so that his ear is resting directly over Steve’s heart. Bucky has never heard it so strong and steady, and he feels an instant calm.

 

(1945) 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he huddles close between Steve on his right and Dugan on his left in the trench as the war rages over their heads. It’s getting harder and harder to shut out the sounds of tanks and gunshots and bullets whizzing by, the longer this goes on. He’d thought it would be the other way around. He’s just grateful he’s not alone.

“You okay, kid?” Dugan says, nudging him in the side.

Bucky looks at him. “Of course I am,” he replies with as much confidence as he can muster up at a time like this. No need to bring down everyone’s morale by having a minor freak-out.

“Good,” Dugan grins. He nudges him again, but this time Bucky feels like it’s more about solidarity than anything.

Something brushes against Bucky’s right hand, and then grasps it tightly for a moment. Bucky swings his head around to look at Steve, who gives him a small encouraging smile and then pushes his own left sleeve up to just below his elbow. He grabs Bucky’s hand and wraps it around his wrist.

Bucky opens his mouth to speak but isn’t sure what to say. He can feel Steve’s pulse under his fingertips, powerful and even. With every beat, the noise dies down just a little more until Bucky can no longer hear the tanks and the gunshots and the bullets whizzing by, and all there is left is Steve’s pulse under his fingers and his own pounding in his ears and Steve’s eyes looking straight at him.

 

(2012) 

“Clint and I are going to grab a coffee at that cafe down the street that you like, if you wanna come?” Natasha says, poking her head into Steve’s room. “It only got a little blown up, but their machine is definitely working.” She grins at him.

Steve is sitting on the edge of his bed. He smiles a little. “Thanks Natasha, but not today. I’m still a little...”

“Shook up?” Natasha supplies.

“Yeah, after all this mess with Loki and...” Steve frowns. He still can’t really believe any of this is happening— _has_ happened.

“No worries, Cap. Maybe next time.”

Steve is grateful for her understanding, sometimes more so than anyone else’s these days. “Next time,” he agrees.

As she leaves, Steve finds himself holding onto his wrist, feeling for his pulse to centre himself. He shuts his eyes and remembers.

 

(2014) 

“Bucky,” Steve says, his voice urgent and hands on Bucky’s shoulders, shaking him gently. “Buck.”

Bucky snaps awake and clamps his hands around Steve’s wrists.

Steve inhales sharply and Bucky loosens his grip in an instant, feeling Steve’s steady pulse and realising where he is. “Hey pal,” Bucky says softly, letting go.

Steve sighs. “Hey.”

Bucky knows he’s been having nightmares again. He hasn’t been the same since he remembered who he was—hasn’t been the same since he became the Winter Soldier. But this, waking up to Steve worrying over his restless sleep, this is surprisingly familiar. He finds himself smiling, in spite of everything.

“What?” Steve asks, frowning.

Bucky hums. “Nothing. Glad you’re here.”

Steve visibly softens, his shoulders relaxing and the hard lines between his eyebrows evening out, and then he’s getting into bed and curling Bucky into his arms. Bucky nuzzles into the crook of Steve’s neck, feeling Steve’s pulse against his temple, and puts his non-metal hand on Steve’s heart.

Steve tightens his arms around Bucky and whispers, “I’m glad you’re here too.”


End file.
